11/4/2000 & 11/5/2000

"Did you do any more 5.9s this weekend?" a friend emails me on Monday.

No, but I struggled through some 5.8s and knocked off a nemesis.

On Saturday I led Farewell to Arms and Eastertime Too, both 5.8. Eastertime Too wasn't too hard to take, but Farewell to Arms had its moments. The route goes up a left-facing corner for a short distance before making a long traverse to the left and into a right-facing corner. Steven told me there was a pin to protect the start of the traverse and told me a story to go with it. Apparently, a Gunks regular placed the pin after someone took a serious fall back into the corner before getting any gear in on the traverse.

But the pin is missing Saturday. After some deliberation, I decide to climb higher into the corner and place a piece overhead. I know I'll feel it in rope drag later but decide the extra safety is worth it. I'm even happier with this decision when my first piece along the traverse is a black Alien. From there it's only a couple more moves before more reassuring gear becomes available.

The crux of this route is supposedly the finishing moves around the corner under the roof. Why then are these moves up the corner so hard? I'm stuck at one point. The chalk goes in conflicting directions. I look down to ask Steven which way to go but he's not watching me.

"Be a big girl," I tell myself. "Your route-finding skills need work."

I check both directions - straight up or around the corner to the left into another corner? After a quick reconnaissance around the corner I decide that that's the way to go. I put a four foot sling on the pin that will be my highest piece and start around the corner. Quickly, I'm gripped. I scurry back down to my last stance and re-consider. Once again I look down to check with my mentors, Steven and Todd, on the ground. Once again, no one is watching me.

"Be a big girl," I tell myself. "Make yourself feel safer."

I swap out the four foot sling with a two-footer. For the second time on this route I wonder how much rope drag I'm letting myself in for and, also for the second time, decide I'll take my chances. With a shorter potential fall and a more careful examination of the moves, I'm able to get around the corner and to a stance.

A few more rough moves finally bring me under the roof. The last of these is particularly long and scary. I over-grip the horizontal under the roof and fire in a cam. Steven has raised the idea of placing gear in the middle of the crux, letting me know that there's no gear after the crux, so I don't place a second piece from this stance and don't extend the runner. I begin the crux sequence and, one minor move later, am done with it. Whew! The crux isn't bad at all - it's just getting up to it that's hard!

As I make the final easy moves to the anchor I realize that I have, finally, done myself in with rope drag. The last piece under the roof was the kicker. Luckily the moves are minor and the anchor is close. I clip in, downclimb back under the roof, and extend that "final straw" piece before lowering off.

Later in the day Todd mentions that there's a pin at the start of the traverse again. Apparently another Gunks regular stopped by to replace it shortly after I got off the route.

On Sunday, a nemesis falls! After leading the second pitch of Son of Easy O (5.8), cleanly but with a bit of climbing up and down, I suggest City Lights (5.7). This route has had it in for me from day one. I've been on it three times (twice on lead, once following) and have never pulled the crux move on the first try.

Even as I suggest City Lights, a light rain begins to fall. Did I tell you this route has it in for me? We get ready, ignoring the rain. I re-rack the gear. It rains harder. Todd flakes out the rope. It rains harder. I tie in. It rains harder. I step up to the crux, place the crux gear, and test the rock. Slick, of course.

I've never found a graceful way to do this move. The only way I can do it is to smear way up high on my right foot and throw every bit of strength I have into mantling off that pod. So I place my right foot up and start to weight it. Slip. Again. Slip. More pressure, get a bit of height on it. Hell. What am I supposed to do next? Back down. I try again, get a bit higher still, place the left foot in a slick, damp dent. Hell. What am I supposed to do next? I come back down.

"Maybe today isn't the day to do this route," I say, resigning myself to being beaten by it once again.

Todd starts to explain how he does the move.

"I know how to do the move," I say. "At least, I know how to do it the only way that works for me."

And suddenly something clicks and I remember that every time I'm surprised by how brutal, how graceless the move is. Every time it is like discovering the move anew. And I throw myself at it, full-on brute-strength, step up into that mantel, left foot even higher, and I'm there.

"Can I come down now?" I ask. But the rain has stopped, the sky has cleared. I lead all the way to the top in one pitch with the sun shining down upon me. Surely, it's a glorious day.

11/12/2000

Todd and I intended to take it easy this weekend, since we leave for Potrero Chico on Saturday, but we didn't intend to take it this easy.

First it rained Saturday. Then Sunday we went with Steven and some other friends to Peter's Kill, where I'd never been before. After a half day we realized that we just weren't enjoying ourselves and called it quits.

If you go to Peter's Kill, be warned that some of the routes are sandbagged even by Gunk's standards. I thought Todd was going die on a 5.8 he led (I think he thought he was going to die too). There was a 5.9G (Oops) I thought about leading. I'm glad I didn't try it since I fell on TR and, although it does seem like you can put gear in anywhere when you're standing on the ground, I think you'd have to trust a blind placement to protect that particular move.

The guidebook author was climbing right next to us. Apparently a second edition (that will bump up the ratings on some of these routes) is in store.

11/18/2000 - 11/24/2000

Todd and I went to Potrero Chico in Mexico. Read the trip report: Fried Shoes and Other Luxuries